Obvious
by Jo. R
Summary: It's obvious. Gibbs/Abby


Title: Obvious  
Author: Jo. R  
Rating: K+ at most  
Pairing: Gibbs/Abby  
Spoilers: Slight for the circumstances facing the team at the beginning of season six.  
Summary: It's obvious.  
Disclaimer: The characters herein are totally not mine; really wish they were, though.  
Authors Note: Just a little thing done as a writing exercise. Fluffy, but I needed it.

* * *

For being one of the best teams he'd ever had the good fortune to work with, NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs couldn't help but be a little disappointed that they hadn't figured it out yet.

He studied them from his desk, holding a report in front of him so he could drop his gaze whenever one of them happened to look his way, wondering if it should concern him they hadn't figured out something that was so obvious to himself – or if he and his co-conspirator should be proud of themselves for their discretion.

Tony DiNozzo was the one he thought would've figured it out first. Very little passed him by, especially if it was to do with one of his colleagues and their personal life. He was notorious for having a knack at discovering the little things his teammates didn't want him to know – like McGee's habits when he was trying to get himself ready to write or the little tells that Ziva gave off following a date she'd tried to keep them all from knowing about. He usually kept quiet about it if the indications led him to believe the date had been a success but teased her mercilessly if he suspected it had gone wrong in some way.

But no, Tony hadn't guessed. If he had, he wouldn't be able to keep quiet. The younger agent would either make his approval or disapproval known in little comments and mock whispers designed to get a reaction.

Gibbs couldn't decide if he was pleased or not; on one hand, it'd be nice to stop having to pretend everything was normal but on the other, Tony's reaction to the discovery was probably the one he was looking forward to the least. If the other agent wasn't happy with it, he wouldn't hesitate in letting his feelings show and it did worry Gibbs a little what effect that would have on his co-conspirator.

Then there was Special Agent Timothy McGee, who was the most likely out of the team to be hurt by the discovery. Though he was certain McGee would get over it when he realised it was a good thing for both parties involved, he was a little nervous that things would be uncomfortable for a while. McGee was a good agent, an integral part of his team, and he didn't want to do anything to jeopardise having him there.

The temporary reassignment of his team had shown him just how good they actually were and how much they meant to him, both as a whole and as individuals, and Gibbs would move heaven and earth to keep them together for as long as possible.

Move heaven and earth, yes. Sacrifice the secret he was tired of keeping, no.

Ziva David was next, and though she'd yet to say anything, he wasn't entirely sure she didn't already know. The Mossad Officer was as sharp as they came and very little escaped her – surely she of all people would have noticed the change, no matter how slight, since returning to NCIS after a short time back in her native Israel. Surely she must have noticed something when she'd stayed at Abby Sciuto's apartment, some hint or trace of evidence that had been missed by the forensic scientist?

Gibbs lifted the report a little higher and leaned back in his chair, carefully concealing the expression that appeared on his face at the thought of her.

Abby. His secret.

Though he was getting tired of it being a secret, and planned on telling her as soon as he'd figured out if keeping the shift in their relationship from the others was something she really wanted or something she thought he wanted.

They weren't obvious about it in any way, shape or form. They'd agreed to keep it from interfering in their professional lives and had done an admirable job, limiting their contact at the Navy Yard to no more than the platonic kisses and short embraces they'd always shared in front of their colleagues. Okay, so maybe the hugs lasted a little longer and the kisses were a little closer to her lips than to the centre of her cheek like they used to be but no one had noticed and neither had chosen to make an issue of it.

Their relationship had shifted following the reassignment of his team, both at a loss of how to cope with the sudden absences in their lives. They'd taken to spending more time together outside of work – the occasional phone call and evening together that had become normal in the years they'd known one another had extended to three, sometimes four nights a week. Mostly at his place, eating take out in his basement, but sometimes he'd go to hers and sit through a movie she insisted he just had to see, some attempt at teaching him pop culture references he had no interest in but would tolerate because it was Abby asking him to.

They'd found themselves in a relationship without meaning to start one, cooking together, eating together, their lives intermingling until he took it for granted that she'd be going home with him and he'd wake up to the feel of her in his arms after a night of innocent sleeping, the smell of gunpowder and sawdust on the pillows and blankets wrapped around them.

The first night he'd gone home after working late to find an empty house had startled him. The silence had been as deafening as the songs she played in her lab – and certainly more oppressive. He'd lasted an hour before driving over to her place, letting himself in with the key she'd given him when she hadn't answered the door.

He'd never forget the look on her face she walked in with a bag of groceries to find him sitting on her sofa, flicking mindlessly through the countless channels on the cable package Tony had insisted she subscribed to.

That night had been the first night he'd kissed her, heart pounding in his chest as he took a risk and gambled the friendship he treasured so much on the feeling in his gut.

It was the best risk he'd ever taken.

After being so stunned she dropped the brown paper bag on the floor, Abby had returned his embrace as fiercely as he'd hoped she would, telling him in no uncertain terms she wasn't going to be just another one of his women – that she was the last one – and if he wasn't happy with that, he was just going to have to learn to be.

Four months on and he was happier than he felt he had a right to be. He found he loved not only having someone to go home to but that having it be Abby made it all the better. It wasn't just the newly discovered physical aspect of their relationship – though he couldn't lie and pretend he didn't enjoy being her lover immensely – it was having someone around who understood him and didn't try to change him, unlike his three ex-wives.

He was still grumpy at times but instead of getting exasperated or angry about it, Abby just laughed and teased him. She seemed to sense when he needed time on his own, giving him space until he was ready to come to her, though it was happening less and less – he found being with her helped his moods pass much more quickly than they did if he avoided her.

She still played her music too loudly and laughed at his attempts at getting her to listen to something a little calmer. She still went out to clubs he didn't approve of though restricted herself to one party a month at her choosing, insisting she'd rather be with him than out on her own wishing she was home. She'd confessed once that she was worried she was getting old and boring but Gibbs had assured her that wasn't the case, trying not to laugh at the sight of a woman wearing pigtails and what could've passed for a school uniform complaining she was getting too old. One of the things in life he was sure of was that Abby would never get old; she'd age like they all did but she'd never stop being the ever-young woman who'd stolen his heart.

The sound of someone clearing their voice startled him from his musings, and it was all Gibbs could do not to let the grin he felt spread across his face at the sight of her standing beside his desk.

"I'm out of Caf-Pow," Abby announced, hands on her hips for theatrical effect. "I can't work without my caffeine fix, Gibbs. You know this."

"You're working on a cold case, Abs." Gibbs put the file down and watched her. "There's no need to work at your usual speed."

A line marred the ordinarily smooth skin of her brow and his fingers itched to be able to smooth it away. "That's beside the point, Gibbs."

"The point being?"

She sighed, a deeply dramatic sound he was sure had gained the attention of his team if they'd somehow missed her presence up until that point. "The point being that I am out of Caf-Pow and you, as my enabler, are responsible for making sure that doesn't happen."

Gibbs swallowed a laugh and settled instead for arching an eyebrow. "Since when have I been your enabler?"

"Since you insist on bribing me with them for results," Abby answered matter-of-factly, rolling her eyes as though it was obvious. "Since you've indulged my habit for years and years and years..."

"I get it. You want a Caf-Pow." With a sigh that was purely for show, Gibbs stood and reached for his badge and weapon. Only then did he glance at the other members of his team, noting their attention appeared to be focused on the work in front of them and not the interaction between Abby and himself.

He thought about offering to get them something then decided to just surprise them with a round of drinks when he returned. He set his hand against the small of Abby's back and led her towards the elevators, allowing himself a small smile at the look of satisfaction on her face.

They were watched the entire time by three pairs of eyes, until the view of them was cut off by the metal doors sliding shut.

"They think they're being so discreet." Tony rolled his eyes, amusement clear on his face. "Think they know we know yet?"

* * *

End.


End file.
